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Talk:Crazy Little Thing Called Love/@comment-4945309-20151201135729/@comment-4945309-20151201135842
13:58, December 1, 2015 (UTC) //'The Last Poem that I Will Ever Write for You'// Juan Miguel Severo This is the last poem I will ever write for you. This is a promise and it is true. I don't know how long it's going to be or if it'll even fit in one page or how many minutes it'll take. I might not even be able to memorize it but I promise, this is the last poem I will ever write for you. Write this on stone, I will reach the day that I will close my eyes and I will run out of words that rhyme with your name, or whatever I call you. Doesn't matter if I call you "love", "lover", "babe", "bae", "beb", "my wife", "mine", "annoying", "stupid", "animal", "son of a bitch", and anything else. I have no concern for if I'm gonna reach a couple of paragraphs here, but I can't keep these words inside me so this is my promise that I will get them all out in this last poem that I will ever write for you. Let's start at the beginning, how you smiled at me and asked me where I lived. You didn't notice the dust on the tables and you weren't bothered by the cockroaches the greeted you when you arrived, and you didn't look at the books at my bedside and I loved you for it. Let's start at the beginning, how you hugged me the first time I said "I love you". How you kissed me on the head when I said "You're so important." And I am the stupid one, so happy that I've realized that I don't want to be important anymore. I don't want to be just something of worth. I am not some antique mirror that you've owned for a very long time, that you only look at to remember you're beautiful. I don't want to be important. I am not a phone that you can bring out of your bag every time you need a solution, when you need connection to the world so that someone will give you attention. I do not want to be important. I am not jewellery that you can wear whenever you have to go out and you feel like something's missing but at the end of the night you're just going to set me aside in a box as you sleep and hide me in a drawer because you're afraid that someone else is going to steal me away. I do not want to be important. What I want is to love. I want to be loved. I need you to love me like your coffee in the morning. Whether it's sweet or bitter, you take it because it's hot, and reheat it when it's cold. I need you to love me like your office, where you've memorized where everything is, so that if you're looking for something you find it right away, and you love it all together as a whole even if it's dirty or messy in places you wouldn't expect. I need you to love me like your pillow at night, that you hug when it's cold and you lay on when it's hot and you cry to when you have nightmares and where you hide your dreams and I don't want to be important, I want to be loved. I want to love. Back then I would write just so you would love me, so please forgive me because I've been writing until I've run out of words that rhyme with your name and and forgive me because sometimes people tell me that the people who don't know how to forgive don't know how to write which is why this moment is so important because this is the last time I will write a poem for you so let's make an agreement. I will forgive you. But you must forgive me too. Forgive me for not stopping my tears and I will forgive you for not crying. Forgive me for not being quiet and I will forgive you for not talking at all. Forgive me for not going and I will forgive you for not staying. Forgive me for not forgetting you and I will forgive you for not choosing me. Forgive me for not letting go and I will forgive you for not holding on. Forgive me for not going far away and I will forgive you for not coming closer. Forgive me for not giving in, and I will forgive you for not taking a chance. Forgive me for annoying you and I will forgive you for not loving me. Forgive me that this poem is ending soon because it's getting way too long, it's been staying in my heart for way too long and I'm sorry that I'm going around in circles, but this is the last poem I will ever write for you, I swear. This is it. I will start again from the beginning, when you smiled at me and asked me where I lived. I will start from the beginning. I will start from the beginning. I will start. This is the last poem I will ever write for you. Wrong! This is the last poem I have ever written about you. I love you, but I am so, so done.